I spent a good part of my weekend feeling sorry for myself. About 1:30 Saturday afternoon, we had received a phone call from my brother Allen. He told Kathy that he couldn't bear the pain he was going through and was being taken via ambulance to the Hospice Center on E 185th St., in Cleveland. In the past 12+ years, I have heard the "H" word applied to a member of my family all too much. I have known for a few months now that Allen had cancer. Up to about a month ago, we hadn't been in the same place together in about 10 years. As a matter of fact, the photo above is me with all my siblings at Christmas 1979. It was very rare that the 5 of us could get together at any time.
On March 8, 1997 my half sister, Bev, had passed away in the same facility where Allen is now. She had challenges from the day she was born when the doctor had scarred her with the forceps. Neurofibromatosis caused unsightly growths and one eye to be blind. She almost choked to death giving birth. And when she passed away at age 45, one of her two children was 11 years old. Kathy and I took custody of him and he lived with us until he graduated from high school.
My father passed away from heart failure on September 13, 2000. My mom died from COPD on April 4, 2004, and my brother Richard passed away March 4, last year. My youngest sister, Deirdre, who has some challenges, lives with us.
Sometimes I have to wonder why? Why have I lost most of my immediate family and am only 53. It's been said that the Lord doesn't put more on you than you can handle. I don't know...